


Hearth

by treefrogie84



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 09:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefrogie84/pseuds/treefrogie84
Summary: Baby's not the only part of Sam and Dean's lives that's been looking out for them. The Green Cooler has too.





	Hearth

> _On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville – a blue two-door Caprice. There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe._

* * *

 

Yeah, sure. Look, Chuck doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Sure, Baby’s important, kept a roof over the boy’s heads for decades, kept them safe, got them to where they needed to be. I’ll never try to take that from her.

But she doesn’t feed them.

That was me. That was always me. From Sammy’s bottles as a baby to his green smoothies as an adult. Dean’s peanut butter and jelly to his bbq ribs. Thousands of meals kept safe.

Thousands more conjured out of next to nothing, when John was too busy hunting to go grocery shopping, when the pool hustling went poorly, when my boys couldn’t risk stepping inside a store. I fed them. I still do. Keep the beer cold, the ice packs colder. Never let food poisoning set in. Sorry, Dean, lettuce is easier to create out of ice than pie.

I can’t do everything, neither can Baby. We’re inanimate after all-- I’m only telling you this due to the grace of some angel or another-- nothing we can do to interfere directly. She can make sure Dean’s _atrocious_ driving skills don’t get us all killed, I can make sure there’s always something besides beer.

But only when I’m here. I can’t feed someone who’s not reaching inside. It’s my greatest shame. All of ours. We let the boys down so many times, simply because we couldn’t…

I’m not sure when we were gifted self-awareness. Before Dean was born, but not much. Baby says she remembers taking Mary to the hospital and coming home with him. I remember a picnic that spring, Dean tucked into a car seat beside me, not even able to sit up on his own yet. Most of those years are a blur of picnics and tailgates, long visits with John’s mom and stepdad away from town.

I remember the fire. The sudden knowledge that I could be killed. Waiting to know if my family made it out. John came back the next day, still reeking of smoke, grabbed me, shoved me into the backseat next to Sammy.

At first, it seemed like we’d be okay. I just had to keep Sam’s bottles and Dean’s juice cold. They’d already lost so much, getting sick just seemed like it’d be too much.

I nearly broke a hinge the first time John came back from a hunt and Dean was even skinnier than usual. Skinny and drooping while Sam chattered happily, no idea that something was wrong. But I knew, and Baby knew. We’d been gone too long, longer than John had shopped for.

And it happened again, and again. The only thing I could do is make sure they all ate when they were with me. But if John was on a hunt…

It was hopeless. A third of my tiny family, given to me to feed and protect, periodically going hungry because I wasn’t there. The only solution to leave me with the boys permanently, convince John to get a second cooler.

He did. It just also involved throwing the keys to Baby at Dean and telling him to take care of her. She shuddered at the irritation and venom in his voice and I did too. Dean, his child, Dean, his partner, pushed aside for something new. A soulless truck, lacking anything approaching a conscience.

But I can feed whoever I’m there for. Pies and cheeseburgers, beer with the alcohol leached out, anything I can do to keep them healthy.

Baby may be their home. She deserves the title, the praise.

I’m their kitchen though, center of hearth and home. And I deserve a little of that praise too.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the crackiest thing I've written since high school and it's still not that crack-y. Come find me on Tumblr at [Treefrogie84](http://treefrogie84.tumblr.com).


End file.
